


One Hundred and Forty Beats Per Minute

by elle_you_oh



Series: I'll Heal the Pieces of Your Broken Heart [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Doctors AU, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_you_oh/pseuds/elle_you_oh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set about a year after the events of May's Anatomy. Phil and Melinda make a decision about their future together that sets them on the road to a happily ever after. Cue an overprotective Phil, appearances from several infants and a constantly bickering Clint and Natasha.</p><p>Contains major spoilers for May's Anatomy. Please see notes before continuing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hundred and Forty Beats Per Minute

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my entry for the philindaau Two Blue Lines Challenge. It is suggested you read May's Anatomy first, but not necessary. Enjoy :)

Phil brings it up one night, while they’re lounging together on the couch, doing some quiet reading after putting Skye to bed.

 

“Do you want more children?”

 

He says it so casually, like it’s just some random topic you bring up to fill the silence, but she can tell from the way his shoulders tense and his back straightens that he’s nervous asking her. And they both know why.

 

She slides her bookmark into place between the pages of her worn novel, and places it onto the coffee table before turning to him and offering him her full attention.

 

“Do you?”

 

She tries her best to keep her tone even and expression neutral as she waits for his reply, because she definitely knows how she feels about this topic, but she needs to hear what he thinks.

 

“I’ve always wanted a big family,” he says wistfully while nodding, a small smile forming on his lips. “But I’m already so lucky to have Skye, and to have you, and I’m happy.”

 

She reaches for his hand as he extends his arm, and they sort of meet somewhere in the middle, Phil gently closing his fist over hers, thumb rubbing the inside of her wrist.

 

“I’m lucky to have you too,” she responds with a smile, before reaching out and placing her other hand over their joined ones. “I always thought that I’d end up alone, having only stories of the amazing surgeries I’d once performed, to entertain the other old ladies at the nursing home. After I gave up Skye, I didn’t think I would even consider the possibility of finding happiness, much less building a family and reuniting with her. But now that we’re here, I know that I do. I’m definitely not in the running for ‘mother of the year’ but I do want more children. With you.”

 

She’s actually been musing over this for several weeks now, and is increasingly glad that Phil is the one who is bringing it up. He stares at her, a little in shock, because he’s not sure he’s ever heard her say so many words in one go.

 

“But I do want to talk it over with Skye first,” she says and he quickly nods. “It isn’t fair to her if we just decide to bring another child into our family, you know, because of what I did,” she continues, looking down at their entwined hands. Phil’s chest aches a little at her words, and he silently draws her into his arms, letting her rest against his side as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

 

“Skye adores you, and you’re an amazing mother,” he reassures her as he runs his hand over her back in circles. She allows herself a smirk and he feels more than sees that she’s rolling her eyes at him.

 

“We both know that you wouldn’t say otherwise,” she jokes, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “You wouldn’t want to have to sleep on the couch tonight would you?”

 

They both share a quiet laugh and settle into a comfortable silence, until a cough from behind them causes both their heads to whip around. Skye is standing a couple of metres away in her mint green pajamas, arms folded across her chest, and Phil can see from here that her bedroom door is open.

 

“Just so you know I’m totally down with having a sibling, as long as I can bring it in to show and tell.”

 

* * *

 

“So what do we do? Just start trying?” Phil asks later that night, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he watches Melinda sail through her evening routine.

 

He’s almost offended when she snorts at him, but just smiles softly as he sees her reflection smirking at him through their bathroom mirror.

 

“Well we can stop _not_ trying,” she responds with a shrug, picking up her birth control pills and giving the box a onceover before tossing it into the trash.

 

“I can live with that,” he says with a grin, and she just scoffs at him once more, before shooing him back out into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

_A little over 2 months later_

 

Phil looks up with a smile as Melinda exits the bathroom, rubbing lotion over her hands and arms. Her pale blue night gown billows around as she makes her way to his side of the bed and clambers up onto his lap, thoroughly distracting him from the medical magazine that he is really only pretending to read at this point.

 

“Hey.”

 

Setting this month’s issue of _Medical Marvels_ onto the nightstand, his hands find their way to her thighs, slowly sliding the semi-transparent fabric up, exposing the smooth skin of her legs inch by inch. His hands settle on her hips beneath her sleeping gown, fingertips dancing over her matching satin panties as he attempts to draw her closer.

 

“Someone’s a little frisky tonight,” she comments with a smirk, slowly removing his hands from their perch and lacing their fingers together in between them.

 

“Says the one who climbed up onto my lap,” he retorts, sitting up a little more and tugging her closer with a playful grin.

 

She rolls her eyes at him, but her expression quickly turns serious as she grips his hands a little tighter, holding them together as he meets her gaze. She pauses until she’s certain that she has his full attention, and it’s a little silly because he has difficulty focusing on anything else when she’s around.

 

“We need to get married.”

 

His expression of shock tests her control as she attempts to keep a cheeky smile from forming across her lips. The only thing on his mind at this moment is the diamond ring that sits in the navy blue velvet box, locked away in his bedside drawer, just out of reach. Well, that and the oversized bouquet he ordered from his favourite florist, the booking at a fancy restaurant in town for next week and the cheesy speech he had prepared for that evening when he was going to go down on one knee and ask his beautiful girlfriend to marry him.

 

He opens his mouth to respond to her statement, five simple words that may put months of planning to waste, but nothing comes out and he’s just sort of gaping at her. She senses his confusion and shuffles a little closer, releasing his hands and wrapping her arms around his neck as she rests her forehead onto his.

 

“We need to get married,” she repeats, beginning to smirk once again as she continues, “Because my mother will probably kill you if I have another baby out of wedlock.”

 

The mood in the room shifts with her words and Phil can’t stop the giant grin that is breaking out across his face as he stares into Melinda’s eyes, seeking further confirmation to her announcement. She reaches out and pulls one of his hands over her midsection, feeling almost giddy with happiness as he trails his fingers over her still toned abdomen.

 

“I didn’t start showing with Skye until the second trimester, so we should have about two months to organize things,” she continues, and at this point they’re both smiling widely - well she’s kind of still smirking but Phil is so happy right now he can’t even explain what he’s feeling.

 

“I love you,” he says, moving his hand from her stomach to loop his arm around her waist, and gently reaching his other hand up to tilt her lips down to meet his. All caution is thrown out the window however as she kisses him back with fervor, tangling her fingers in his hair, pressing her body flush against his, almost grinding down into his lap.

 

“You can still propose you know,” she says after they pull apart, still a little breathless, and he nods happily, because knowing that she won’t say no when he pops the question is so much more relieving than he could have imagined.

 

She shifts so she’s up on her knees, straddling his lap as she tugs her nightgown over her head, flinging it across the room without a care. “Now that that’s over and done with, it’s time to celebrate,” she whispers as she seals their lips once again, and if he’s shocked, he doesn’t show it.

 

An hour and a copious amount of intimacy later, they’re both lying naked, the sheets shoved down to the end of the bed, sweaty but sated. She rests her head against his shoulder, her back flush with his chest as she listens to Phil ramble about how much he loves her and how beautiful she is. He’s more than excited to be a dad again; she can tell, because he has his arm casually draped over her side, his hand spanning over her midsection, almost protectively. With a content sigh, she snuggles closer against him, resting her hand above his and lacing their fingers together and letting sleep claim her.

 

* * *

 

“Shouldn’t you be embracing the toilet while complaining about how everything is my fault,” Phil asks a week later when he enters the kitchen to find Melinda digging around in the fridge.

 

“Not everyone gets morning sickness Phil,” she says, annoyance evident in her tone as she steps back and lets him take over preparing breakfast. “Do you want me to be throwing up the entire contents of my stomach six times a day?”

 

He abandons his search for carrots and wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

 

“Of course not,” he assures her and he can feel her smile as she tips her head back to rest against his shoulder. He takes her left hand in both of his and holds it up to the light, admiring the way the diamonds looked in the light. This engagement ring cost him a small fortune, and he knew Melinda would have been happy with a simple band, but he wanted to get something a little nicer.

 

Plus, he had made the mistake of taking his eleven year old ring shopping with him, and she had insisted that more diamonds meant more love. He wasn’t sure that was very logical, but Skye was adamant that the flashier ring was a better choice.

 

And it did look good on Melinda’s hand, so that was all that really mattered.

 

* * *

 

They have a fairly quiet wedding, with just their friends and coworkers, and Melinda’s mother makes the drive down from Pennsylvania and spends the entire evening doting over her precious granddaughter Skye.

 

Tony had insisted they hold the event at his estate, and being as wealthy as he was, had everything organized for them with a snap of his fingers. Neither Phil nor Melinda had much interest in planning a wedding, and honestly Melinda would have been happy to just sign some papers at the registrar's office and be done with it.

 

But Skye is a little more excited, and has sleepovers at Uncle Tony’s to plan with her Aunt Pepper, and to visit her new little “cousin” Edwin “Eddie” Howard Stark.

 

Melinda wears the same cream coloured dress and red flats she did on their first date, and the colour scheme for the entire event is built around that. The decorations are all in cream and red, from the tablecloths, napkins, and favours in Tony’s grand ballroom, which has been set up for a reception, to the flowers and ribbons in the garden pavilion.

 

The ceremony is short, because many of their guests have to get back to their shifts at the hospital, but the all you can eat buffet is open for the entire day so hopefully no one misses out.

 

Clint makes a speech as Phil’s best man, and Melinda sips at a glass of juice while the champagne is popped. It’s no secret that she and Phil are expecting - all their closest friends are doctors - but no one makes too much of a fuss, because most of them found out about a month ago.

 

She definitely doesn’t look it though, something Phil muses silently about as they move in circles on the dance floor.

 

“I can’t believe I can still fit into this dress,” she says, close to laughing, and he smiles, because she has mentioned that she obtained it as a teen. She’s glad that she’s not showing yet, that there isn’t an awkward bump getting in the way of her and Phil sharing their first dance as a married couple. She doesn’t say it, but he knows as she settles even closer into his arms.

 

“They look so happy, don't they?"

 

"Clint, you're starting to sound like the creepy old aunt at every wedding that no one wants to sit next to," Natasha muses, swirling the red wine around her glass before taking a sip.

 

"Don't listen to your Auntie Nat. She's drunk," he says with a huff of indignation, before pulling a silly face, drawing loud giggles and coos from the two infants seated in his lap.

 

“Stop telling people that,” she says with a glare, setting her half-finished drink down onto the table before reaching over and plucking the child from his left knee. “And quit hogging the babies.”

 

“Well that was rude, wasn’t it Isabelle?” Clint says pouting as he lifts the other baby up into the air, pretending to study her face. She kicks out at him, and her foot catches his nose, and Natasha just laughs at him.

 

“Kicking people isn’t nice Izzy,” he scolds as he sits her back down in his lap, lifting one hand to rub at his sore nose. The little beast just gurgles and waves a fist, smacking into his stomach and he winces in pain. Natasha pokes her tongue out at him, which at this point is just plain mean.

 

“Nat, please swap with me,” he says pleadingly, and she plonks the more silent of the two babies back into his lap before taking the little demon into her arms.

 

“You’d think Isabella would be better behaved than Hunter,” he comments, bouncing the little boy around on his lap, as Natasha scrunches her nose while rocking the devil-child to sleep.

 

“Why’d Bobbi have to name him Hunter? It makes things way too confusing for the rest of us.”

 

“Who knows why Bobbi does what she does?” he says with a shrug, tickling the little boy in his side while leaning back in his seat.

 

They sit in silence for several moments, watching couples move around on the dance floor, until an awful smell begins to permeate through the air, and he looks down to find the source squirming around his lap.

 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

 

Clint looks aghast at the current situation, and Natasha just shrugs evilly, clearly unwilling to help him. Thankfully, he hasn’t pissed off every force in the universe, because just moments later, Bobbi and Lance have arrived, both coming off shifts at the hospital.

 

The two children are immediately handed off to their father, who grabs a bag and takes them off somewhere to deal with the problem, while Bobbi sinks into the seat beside Natasha.

 

“Thanks for babysitting you two,” she says with a smile, and Natasha brushes it off, saying it was no problem, but she wasn’t the one who was brutally attacked by one twin and pooped on by the other.

 

Clint wisely chooses to keep his mouth shut however, and listens quietly as the women start up a conversation, until the song changes, and Natasha stands up and drags him off onto the dance floor.

 

* * *

 

Phil is a worrier. He always has been. But things have only escalated since Melinda got pregnant and he’s almost starting to annoy her now.

 

Almost.

 

She’s bending over a little to grab a bottle of juice from the lower level of the fridge in the attending’s lounge and he’s immediately by her side, one hand on her back, easing her into a standing position.

 

“Phil,” she says, warning in her voice as he grabs her drink, before ushering her into a seat.

 

“Melinda, you shouldn’t be straining yourself,” he says as he opens the bottle before passing it back to her.

 

“It’s a bottle of juice. And I’m pregnant. Not dying.”

 

He’s much too overprotective and overbearing and a little controlling, but nevertheless, she lets him wedge a cushion between her and the couch, sighing in content as the added support lessens the ache in her back.

 

And she doesn’t object as he lifts her feet into his lap and begins rubbing at her ankles, which aren’t swollen but still sore from supporting the extra weight. As he gives her an impromptu massage with one hand, he rests the other over their baby, splaying his fingers over the growing bump.

 

“Three months to go,” he says happily, and she just smiles as she moves his hand to a spot beneath her ribs on her left side where the baby’s foot is protruding.

 

“How’s Natasha Jr. doing?”

 

Phil just beams as Clint and Natasha enter the room with their lunches and sit down opposite them, while Melinda scowls at her red-headed best friend.

 

“We are not naming the baby Natasha Jr,” she says with a pointed glare as she takes another drink of juice.

 

“Of course you’re not. Because it’s Clint Jr,” Clint announces with a grin, giving Melinda a not so subtle wink as Natasha smacks him playfully on the arm.

 

“If they name him Clint Jr, he’ll get beat up in the playground,” Natasha says with a self righteous smirk.

 

“If they name him Natasha Jr, he’ll get beat up in the playground.”

 

“What makes you so sure it’s a boy?”

 

“I have an eye for these things,” Clint says, waving his hand mysteriously.

 

“What do you know? You’re a plastic surgeon,” Natasha retorts, hand on one hip.

 

Phil and Melinda just exchange a silent glance as their two closest friends continue to argue over the gender of their baby. The banter is playful and they’re both being silly, but Phil doesn’t miss the longing in Clint’s eyes as the younger man watches them.

 

* * *

 

“We haven’t discussed this yet, but do you have a preference on the sex of the baby?” Melinda asks him a few weeks later.

 

They’d decided to let it be a surprise from the beginning, which meant gender neutral baby things and very cautious ultrasounds. Their OB has been very helpful on that front, only taking the ultrasound photos when the baby is turned so one can not identify the sex.

 

Of course it doesn’t matter if the baby is a boy or a girl. They’re happy to know that it’s healthy, all body parts accounted for, little heart racing at one hundred and forty beats per minute.

 

Despite that, Phil has had an answer for Melinda’s question since he imagined them having more children together. It’s three in the morning and he only got home from the hospital half an hour ago, to find Melinda in the kitchen eating an enormous amount of macaroni and cheese from a giant bowl he forgot he owned.

 

“A boy,” he says quickly, and she lifts an eyebrow in surprise. He rushes to continue but she holds out a hand to stop him.

 

“I’m hoping for a boy too,” she confesses, and he knows that she has more to say, but is hesitating. He makes her a glass of warm milk, before clearing away her bowl and cleaning up, and ten minutes later, they’re curled up in bed together, her head resting against his shoulder and both their arms curled protectively around her belly.

 

“I never really dreamed of settling down and having kids, but the few times I did, I always imagined having a little girl. And then I had Skye, and I just threw it all away,” she says softly, and he pull sher a little closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head a murmuring that that was in the past now.

 

“I don’t want her to think the baby will replace her. That she’s not as important, because I’m choosing to keep this baby and I didn’t choose to keep her. It’s not fair to her. I want her to know that she’s my little girl, and no one can ever replace her. So it’ll make life a lot easier, if this little one is a boy.”

 

He breathes a sigh of relief, because he feels the same way. Sort of. Skye isn’t biologically his, but this baby will be, and he needs his darling little girl to know that she’s just as important to him as her future brother or sister will be.

 

And so he hopes for a boy.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, Phil really should have seen this coming.

 

Melinda is officially on maternity leave, but he’s doing a couple of extra shifts at the hospital now, because they’ll both be on leave after the baby is born. So while Phil’s doing a simple operation on a two year old to fix her bowel, Melinda is home getting Skye ready for school.

 

Her back has been increasingly bothering her these past two weeks, but she’s eight and three quarters of a month pregnant now, so she pays no mind to it. Until she’s placing the dishes in the sink and the pain gets worse, and her belly contracts beneath her hands and she’s definitely going into labour.

 

She takes a couple of deep breaths and tidies everything up, cleaning the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, moving into the bedroom to check that her bag is packed and by the time she’s back in the kitchen packing Skye’s lunch into a box (pre-made by Phil the previous evening), she’s had another six contractions, the last two being only five minutes part.

 

So when Skye enters the kitchen a minute later, a look of worry across her features seeing her mother grasping the marble counter, face contorted with pain, Melinda realises that this is happening much faster than the first time, something which she doesn’t know if she is grateful for, or annoyed at.

 

She tells Skye that she’s missing school today, and that she can stay in Uncle Nick’s office and Skye nods obediently, before dashing off and reappearing moments later, lugging Melinda’s bag with one arm and holding her phone in the other.

 

One phone call, a death defying car ride and a thankfully quick check-in process later, Melinda is sitting in a hospital bed, all hooked up to the different monitors. The nurses that come in to assist her all wish her good luck as she waves them away, taking her own chart to study.

 

Natasha is lounging on the sofa on one side of the room, drinking coffee and texting Clint, who has gone up to the galleries to observe Phil’s surgery, with clear instructions to only tell him that Melinda is having the baby after he’s stitched the patient back together, not before.

 

It’s only a simple procedure, and he should, by all means, be done in less than an hour, but as Melinda hisses through another contraction, she realises that the baby really doesn’t want to wait.

 

When Phil races into the room fifty seven minutes later, filled with worry and spurting out apologies, Melinda just reaches for him and smiles as he settles beside her, letting her take his hand.

 

Twenty two minutes later, their son is born.

 

Melinda smiles as the nurse hands her the baby, all cleaned up and swaddled in a light blue blanket, and Phil is definitely crying. She presses a kiss to the newborn’s forehead, before holding him out to Phil, who has more tears than the baby.

 

“I had a feeling he’d be early. Takes after his daddy,” she says, and he gives her another watery smile as he holds his son for the first time.

 

He’s reluctant to let the baby go, and to leave Melinda’s side, but the kid wants to eat, and he needs to go and fetch Skye from the Chief’s office so she can meet her brother.

 

Half an hour later, he has Skye all clean and disinfected, dressed in a gown much too big for her, as they make their way down the hall to Melinda’s private room.

 

He and Melinda are both watching carefully for Skye’s reaction to her new younger brother. She’s sitting in a chair Phil has pulled up beside the bed, and carefully holding the baby like he’s shown her, and it’s really making both their hearts melt.

 

“What’s his name?” she asks thoughtfully, looking up at her parents and then back down at the sleeping baby.

 

Phil and Melinda share another long and meaningful look before he answers.

 

“Robert Clinton Coulson,” Phil announces with a smile, turning to press a kiss to Melinda’s lips as she leans into his embrace.

 

Skye is about to respond when a loud “Woohoo” comes from the hall, and through the blinds, Phil can make out the shape of Clint doing a fistpump.

 

A moment later, Natasha pops her head through the door with an expression of offense.

 

“And to think I broke traffic laws driving you here,” she says, flipping her hair almost dramatically as she turns back into the hall.

 

“In your face Nat,” they hear Clint cheer, before he yelps and tears down the hall with an annoyed Natasha running after him.

 

“Don’t mind Clint and Natasha, Robbie,” Skye says to her little brother. “They’re weird, but we have to love them anyway. And I can’t wait for you to meet Izzy and Hunter. Little Hunter not big Hunter. That’s his daddy. It’s confusing, I know. And Eddie. He’s just a baby like you, and Aunt Pepper and Uncle Tony are his Mommy and Daddy. Don’t ever listen to anything Uncle Tony tells you. He’s a plastic surgeon, and Natasha says that Plastic Surgeons don’t know anything.”

 

Melinda smiles at her children; what an odd word, children. Phil just holds her tighter as they watch Skye give her brother his first life lessons. They really had nothing to worry about, she clearly already loved him.

 

When little “Robbie”, as termed by his big sister, begins to squirm in Skye’s arms, Phil gently retrieves the baby and rocks him back and forth. Both Phil and Melinda shift on the bed to allow Skye room to clamber on beside her mother, the two sharing a long hug.

 

“I like my new brother,” she says finally, with a big smile as she looks over at him, and her parents both laugh softly at her admission. But then she suddenly sits up straighter, and pulls her arms across her chest, expression turning deadly serious.

 

“But I wanted a sister.”


End file.
